


The Adventure Of The Blackmailed Paladin

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [46]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Army, Blackmail, F/M, Framing Story, Imprisonment, M/M, Paperwork, Slow Burn, The Establishment, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15326091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: A popular military figure is besmirched by a blackmail case – but is all what it appears? Sherlock metes out justice and Watson meets his Scottish cousin.





	The Adventure Of The Blackmailed Paladin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cemm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemm/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

After the case that had taken my brother and his friend to Essex, Sherlock had three more cases that year that were later published as _The Engineer's Thumb, The Crooked Man _and one of my brother's most famous cases _The Hound Of The Baskervilles_. Curiously the next 'new' case that year, whose events overlapped their sojourn in Devonshire, ended like the Montpensier one in court, and my brother 'helped' his client in a way that saved and yet also marred his life.__

____

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

My readers will remember the largely un-lamented passing of my wayward elder brother Henry some little while back. This had the fortunate side-effect of my renewing ties with the Watson next closest in blood to me, my cousin Mr. Scott Watson, and we started to exchange letters despite his being a lawyer up in Edinburgh. It was his involvement in a major case that brought him down to London and caused him to approach me to see if my clever friend might take an interest in it. I was, I admit, initially surprised given the client that the lofty Mr. Mycroft Holmes had not requested (demanded) his brother's assistance, but as the case unfolded I began to understand why that was. The Establishment, most regrettably, always defends its own.

I did not know what to expect of the gentleman I had arranged to meet at King's Cross Railway Station, except that he was in his late thirties and a widower with an impressive ten children, his wife having died in her last childbirth (Mary and I had of course discussed the topic of children, but had agreed that we - and our finances - were not ready for that just yet). I suppose I had expected my cousin to be the archetypal lawyer like Holmes' friend Mr. Damery, generally nondescript as lawyers are wont to be. 

What alighted from the Scottish train was rather different; indeed Mr. Scott Watson bore much more resemblance to Mr. Kean Hardland, the lover of Sherlock's eldest brother Sherrinford. My cousin had muscles in places that proper gentlemen should not have muscles, and I spotted more than one lingering look from ladies on the platform (and more than one scowl from the gentlemen accompanying said ladies) as we left the station. Fortunately my cousin was as personable as his letters had made him out to be and we chatted amiably as we headed back to Baker Street.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

As with so many lawyers, my cousin spent about three times as many words necessary to explain the matter at hand. I shall summarize.

This was the time when the Cape Colony at the southern tip of the Dark Continent was beginning to transform itself into today's South Africa. It was I knew a dangerous area, with the triple dangers of the Boer lands to the north, fierce native tribes like the Zulu, and rival European Powers who feared Great Britain's on-off ambition to establish a Cape-Cairo axis. Over a decade later there would be the (in)famous Second Boer Wars which so surprisingly taxed Imperial resources, and it was an uncanny foretaste of the scandal of the prison camps at that time (which our country's enemies naturally termed concentration camps after the ones established by the United States for Red Indians) that brought about this case.

The British Army had recently won a major victory against the Zulu tribesmen and had placed many of their captives in a camp where they had been treated appallingly. This would never had come to light had not one of the soldiers down there, a Colonel Nigel Farridge, invited a local journalist to see what was going on. The scandal reached even the pages of the _”Times”_ newspaper in London, which thundered its displeasure against those in charge. I am sad to have to report that no officers were disciplined for their involvement in this shabby behaviour (if one excludes those who were, and I quote, 'spoken to') although the camp was greatly improved as a result.

Much worse and in the sort of shameful behaviour which, incredibly, they had thought to get away with, those at the top of the Army now turned on Colonel Farridge. He had sustained a slight injury in a later battle and they immediately invalided him back to England. I did not of course know of the case at the time, but given the poor record of those in power when it comes to following the rules they demand of everyone else, I would surely have suspected some sort of problems for the Colonel sooner rather than later. And sooner it was; within two months of his return he was implicated in a blackmail scandal when letters threatening him 'just happened' to coincide with certain important military information that had passed through his hands going missing.

No, I did not believe it either.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

My cousin looked even taller in his smart clothes and a dreadful wig. I noted several ladies in the gallery simpering, one with a clearly annoyed husband right next to her, the hussy!

“Please state your full name and current employment for the record.”

The man at the witness stand was in military uniform, about thirty years of age and looked very pale.

“Lieutenant Thomas Wylam of the Third Chilterns Regiment, sir.”

“Are you currently on active service?” 

“Not as such, sir”, the man said. “I was invalided out of Upper Egypt five years ago, after a shell burst close by the camp where I had been stationed and I lost fifty per cent of the vision in my left eye. My then commanding officer Colonel Justinian secured me a position working for the War Office, transporting official documents.”

“Please explain to the court how this 'transportation' takes place”, my cousin said.

“The British Army often wishes to know the thoughts of its retired and elder colonels on certain matters”, Lieutenant Wylam explained. “My job is to courier certain documents to these gentlemen's houses, and then to bring them back. I take documents to the homes of a number of gentlemen, including Colonel Farridge whose house is in Mayfair.

I thought back to Mr. Cecil Forrester who still did much the same job. We had last month received the glad tidings that he and his wife, who had called upon our assistance twice, had now become the proud parents of a son Cerdic. Holmes and I had wired them some money to be placed in a bank account for when the boy grew up.

“Could not these documents just be posted or sent by a private courier service?” my cousin asked.

“I was told that they are too important to be treated thus”, the lieutenant said. “When I am called for, the same thing happens each time. I am given a brief-case with a combination lock on it. It was once explained to me that there were one thousand possible combinations and the entry of an incorrect one would jam the mechanism so it could then only be unlocked by a special key kept in the Office. There were, I presumed, different cases for different recipients; the correct combination to be known to each recipient in order for him to open it.”

My cousin turned to the judge.

“I am restricted as to what I can say because of national security”, he said, “but the prosecution and I have agreed that although the lieutenant took documents to some five different officers as part of his job, only Colonel Farridge received the ones pertinent to this case.”

“Quite”, the judge said. He looked about a hundred and five, I thought. “Pray proceed, Mr. Watson.”

My cousin turned back to the lieutenant.

“When you arrive at Colonel Farridge's Mayfair house, what usually happens?” 

“I should have made clear that the suitcase is also handcuffed to me”, the lieutenant said apologetically. “The colonel has the key to unlock the cuffs. A footman shows me straight to his study and I wait for him there. He unlocks the cuffs and I then wait outside whilst he opens the case. That ensures I do not see the combination, sir.”

“Most proper. And then?”

“He checks the documents to see what they are, then calls me in and thanks me”, the lieutenant said. “One of two thing then happens. If he wishes to spend only a short time on what I have brought, he sends me downstairs for some refreshment; I am usually gone no longer than half an hour if that happens. If on the other hand he wishes for a lengthier examination, he tells me how long he thinks that he will need to read through and respond to them and we fix a date and time for my return. I have to take the case back to the War Office whether empty or full.”

“You do not leave it with him?” my cousin asked.

“No, sir.”

“So there is no way for anyone to gain access to those documents in between the War Office and the Colonel's house?” 

The lieutenant looked unhappy but nodded.

“That is correct, sir.”

“Thank you.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

The prosecution lawyer Mr. Osborne, a nasty piece of work in my opinion, wasted everyone's time by asking much the same questions to the evident annoyance of the judge. Next up was a servant of some sort, by name of Mr. Peter St. John.

“You are the valet to Colonel Farridge?”

“I am, sir.”

“For how long have you been in that post?”

“For the past three years, sir.”

“Do you ever attend the colonel in his study?”

“No, sir!” the valet said firmly. I was surprised at his vehemence.

“Why not?” my cousin asked.

The study is where the master attends to his Private Matters, sir”, the valet said. “The master may of course ring for me if he needs me there, but he never has during my service with him. There was one time last year when he chanced to meet me at the door and passed me a message that he needed to have sent; he usually summons a footman for that. I did not however enter the room on that occasion; indeed I never have done.”

“Does anyone enter the room apart from the maid?” my cousin asked.

“The colonel will not even allow the maid in there, sir”, the butler said. “He cleans it himself. He will not even allow a maid in there to lay the fire; he orders one to bring the coal and meets her at the door.”

“That is extremely security-conscious of him”, my cousin said. “Does the study have a door leading outside?”

“No sir. Only the single door leading into the corridor.”

“Tell me, what rooms lie either side of the study?”

“The room is in a corner position, sir”, the valet said. “The library adjoins it to the west and the smoking-room to the north. Neither is used in the house to any great extent, which allows the master to have his peace and quiet. The connecting doors to both are locked and only the master has the keys.”

“Peace and quiet are things that we should all value”, my cousin smiled. “Thank you.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

“You are Mrs. Genevieve Farridge?”

The middle-aged lady at the stand looked, I thought, the archetypal military wife. She had something of her accused husband's military bearing but was clearly worried.

“I am”, she said, her fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the dock.

“Mrs. Farridge”, my cousin said, “do you have a key to your husband's study?”

She shook her head. 

“Nigel insists that he alone has access to that room”, she said, “which is where he attends to military matters. He smokes his cigars in there, which I do not like.”

“Does he not take them into the smoking-room next door?” my cousin asked, surprised.

“No”, she said. “That room is quite cold, and he prefers to stay in his study which has a much larger fire. Those cigars are quite dreadful; I will not allow him to smoke them anywhere else in the house!”

“But what if he loses his keys?” my cousin asked.

“He once said that a friend has a spare set”, she said. “I do not know which friend; we have several military acquaintances in the area. Or it may be someone at the Office.”

“Thank you”, my cousin smiled. “I may have more questions for you later.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

There were gasps of shock when the next witness took the stand, and even the elderly judge managed a sharp raising of his eyebrows. It was not so much the bright orange mechanic's overalls as who was wearing them. 

“Miss Felicity Day”, my cousin smiled. “Please state your occupation.”

“I work for Middleton's, a private information agency”, Miss Day said. 

“Please tell the court what happened three weeks ago to this day.”

“My friend and acquaintance, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, asked me to assist on the alleged blackmailing of Colonel Nigel Farridge by one Miss Ruby Diamond”, she said. “He entertained a certain idea about this lady but required additional information to support it.”

“Objection!” Mr. Osborne shouted, rising to his feet.

“Over-ruled”, the judge said dryly. “Carry on, Mr. Watson.”

“What did you tell Mr. Holmes?” my cousin asked.

“I was able to provide a list of dates and times when Miss Diamond was seen coming and going from her London house”, Miss Day said. “I was also asked to provide information about the movements of a certain other person, in whom Mr. Holmes was interested. He believed that a pattern would emerge as a result, and he was of course correct.”

“Show-off!” I muttered. Holmes sniggered softly.

“Thank you, Miss Day.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

The nasal prosecution lawyer tried to cross-examine Miss Day but he most definitely came off worse. Next up was a large lady who barely fitted into the dock. My cousin shuffled his notes.

“Mrs. Quarley, you are the housekeeper at Colonel Farridge's London house?”

“I am that, sir.”

“Apart from servants, who resides at the house?”

“Colonel Farridge, Mrs. Farridge, their youngest son Mr. Daniel and their daughter Miss Penelope, sir”, the housekeeper said. “The three eldest sons have all married and moved out, and Miss Penelope is still away at school.”

“I see that those young gentlemen are all serving our Empire overseas”, my cousin said. “I would like to ask you about the events of Friday April the twelfth; it was the day that the city had that unexpectedly heavy snowfall. I believe that Lieutenant Wylam came to the house?”

“He did, sir. To see the master.”

“Please tell us in your own words what happened.”

“The lieutenant arrived at ten o'clock, sir, just as the maids were changing over. I was downstairs of course, but sometimes the master wants to look over the things brought to him and, I suppose, send an immediate reply back through the lieutenant.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Not often, sir. But it did this time.”

“How did you know this if you were downstairs?” my cousin asked.

“When it happens, the colonel sends the lieutenant down to the kitchen for a cup of tea and a slice of cake”, she explained. “He is very good like that. The lieutenant was with me for about twenty minutes which was pretty much as usual, then the colonel sent for him to come back.”

“That you, madam.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Inspector Lestrade stood tall in the witness-stand. 

“Please tell us what you know about a Miss Ruby Diamond”, my cousin said.

“Very little, sir”, the inspector admitted. “We believe that she arrived in the capital about a year ago, and that she may be involved in some form of blackmail. Possibly even espionage.”

“But you have no proof as to that?”

“No, sir. She does not even keep her own staff, employing servants from an agency and never keeping them for more than a few days at a time. She is often out of town and it is believed that she may come from the United States, but otherwise we know little of her. Except that, when we went to question her over the blackmailing letters sent to Colonel Farridge.....”

The nasal prosecution lawyer interrupted.

“Allegedly sent!” he insisted. The judge scowled mightily at him.

“Mr. Osborne”, he said heavily, “you will be granted the chance to cross-examine this witness later. But I do not like it when counsel start interrupting each other, as it delays both the proceedings and my dinner. Kindly refrain!”

The prosecution lawyer sank back. I smiled to myself.

“When we went to question Miss Diamond”, the inspector continued, “she had left the house, apparently for good as it was up for sale. We have made an effort to find her but so far we have not succeeded.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

The unpleasant prosecution lawyer made quite plain that he considered the blackmail letters to have been written by the colonel or an associate to cover his alleged selling of secrets to a Foreign Power, but he could not get anything out of the inspector. Next up was the colonel's youngest son Daniel, an unprepossessing blond youth of about seventeen years of age.

“Mr. Farridge”, my cousin smiled, and I knew instinctively that he had something on the boy. “Do you happen to know a lady called Miss Angela Bruce?”

The boy went so pale I thought he might collapse.

“Um, maybe?”

“Either you know the lady or you do not!” my cousin snapped. “Do you know her?”

The young man seemed to be finding the floor in the witness-stand quite fascinating.

“Yes, sir”, he said miserably.

“Miss Bruce is a maid at Tolworth House, the London home of the War Office minister Lord Ewell”, my cousin said to the judge. “And Lord Ewell happens to be the very friend with whom Colonel Farridge has deposited his sole set of spare keys to his study. Now young sir, I have to say that it is stretching the mathematical laws of probability not just that someone in your position should be seeing a maid but, by an amazing alignment of the Fates, that it should be a maid at the house of the one person with a key to the study from which the papers may have been taken....”

I saw Mr. Osborne rising to his feet, but the judge gave such a mighty scowl that he subsided without speaking. My cousin stared hard at the young man who seemed to shrink back before him.

“I swear that I have never been inside her house!” he said quickly.

“But you did discover that Lord Ewell had the spare key set?” my cousin pressed. The young man gulped, and nodded.

“Please speak for the record”, the judge pressed him.

“Yes sir. I knew.” 

I almost felt sorry for him. My cousin leant forward.

_“To whom did you impart this information?”_

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

The next witness was on the stand. Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

“Thank you for coming today, Mr. Holmes”, my cousin smiled. “I would like you to tell us about your recent investigation into a Miss Ruby Diamond.”

“I was asked to investigate the truth or not concerning allegations that Colonel Nigel Farridge had used his position to sell government secrets to a Foreign Power”, my friend said. 

“Who asked you?” my cousin pressed at once. “Surely not Miss Day?”

Holmes smiled.

“As I am sure you yourself so often do, Mr. Watson, I must decline to answer that question on the grounds of client confidentiality. I will say however that it was I who approached Miss Day for assistance in this case, and that my initial inquiries suggested that a certain Foreign Power that is increasingly hostile towards the Empire had indeed acquired information of late, of the sort that Her Majesty's Government would most definitely _not_ wish it to be in possession of.”

“And it was suggested to you that Colonel Farridge had been blackmailed into selling this information, that act being perpetrated by one Miss Ruby Diamond.”

“It was.”

“Did your investigations confirm that supposition?”

“Yes and no.”

There was a puzzled silence in the court.

“Mr. Holmes”, the judge said slowly, “either Miss Diamond _did_ blackmail the colonel or she _did not_. Which was it?”

“That is a difficult question to answer, my lord”, Holmes said, “bearing in mind that I have sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Initially I was inclined to think that Miss Diamond had indeed blackmailed the colonel. My investigations however showed there to be a problem with that hypothesis. To wit, 'Miss Diamond' did not exist.”

This time the silence was a shocked one.

“What are you saying?” the judge asked.

“What struck me about this case”, Holmes said, “was the singular lack of possibilities. In many of my cases, there are any number of possible outcomes at the start, and I have to remove the false ones until I am left with the correct one. As my friend correctly reports me as saying; once one has eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, _must_ be the truth.”

“Clearly the information was reaching the hostile Foreign Power; there was no doubt about that. I was fortunate in that I have certain government contacts, so I was able to confirm as to what that information was. I cannot of course go into details, but I satisfied myself that the documents sent between the War Office and Colonel Farridge were indeed the ones being leaked. But by whom?”

“I first considered Lieutenant Wylam, but the security measures made it utterly impossible for him to intercept the messages in any way. The War Office timed his departure from their building and the colonel always recorded the time of his arrival in his diary, as well as on the notes themselves. I took the precaution of undertaking the same journey myself as rapidly as I could and there was no lost time to account for, let alone the fact that the lieutenant had no way of opening the case. Hence the theft had to be happening inside the colonel's house.”

“I next considered young Mr. Farridge, especially given his seeing a maid at the house of the one person with his father's spare key set. That seemed, as has been said, an unlikely coincidence. But I have a strong grasp of a gentleman's character and, for all his failings, Mr. Farridge shares his father's patriotism. He would not betray his country. Yet someone in that house did.”

Holmes paused.

“The key to my understanding this case was in a question that I originally posed to Mr. Daniel Farridge a short while back. This was one of those instances when the information was quite literally hidden in plain sight. His original answer to me was that he had told no-one about Miss Bruce, but when pressed, he added the rider, 'only my parents'.”

“I developed an alternative hypothesis, based on someone else. Miss Day and her organization were essential to my investigations as she provided me with a timeline of two things; the comings and goings of Miss Diamond at her house – _and the comings and goings of Mrs. Genevieve Farridge at hers!”_

There was an audible gasp, and I was not the only person to turn their gaze onto the very empty seat behind the colonel. Holmes smiled.

“I alerted Inspector Lestrade to wait outside the court”, he said. “Mrs. Farridge told her husband that she needed to return home for some reason, but would be back for this session. Instead she went home, packed a bag with her jewellery, and ordered a cab to take her down to the docks. Doubtless she was more than a little surprised to get into that cab and find the good inspector waiting for her!”

“Silence in court!” the judge called, as a babble of excited voices broke out. Holmes waited for calm before continuing.

“Mr. Daniel Farridge was innocent of any evil intent, but when he told his mother about his seeing the maid of the friend who held the keys she saw her opportunity. We were told that the colonel kept his own keys on him at all times – so obviously the only time that he would not have it was when he was in bed with his lady wife, and the keys would be in or on his bedside cabinet. She obtained a copy and then set about enriching herself by selling the country's secrets to our enemies. Naturally it could not be for long, but she planned to pin the blame on her husband who, it seemed, was the only person with access to the documents.”

I noticed how Colonel Farridge had gone quite pale. I felt dreadfully sorry for him.

“She creates the fake persona of 'Miss Ruby Diamond'”, Holmes continued, “and spends some of her ill-gotten gains hiring a house and servants to create London's new blackmailer-in-chief. However, the list of her and Miss Diamond's appearances show that they were one and the same. There is also the signature that she used to obtain the servants; a fake one but the actual handwriting is identical.”

“The British government soon realizes that there is a leak, so Mrs. Farridge makes 'Miss Diamond' disappear into thin air, leaving her husband to shoulder all the blame. She will be able to live comfortably off his money, because everyone will feel sorry for the 'poor, betrayed widow' – who most assuredly would have sought out a ship headed for a certain hostile Foreign Power had she made the docks today.”

I smiled. My friend was so clever.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

Colonel Farridge was of course found innocent, although I suspected it was a marred victory. I did wonder whether Mrs. Farridge may have received encouragement if not support from her husband's enemies in the Establishment, especially when she somehow managed to avoid the gallows by obtaining and taking poison whilst in prison. I do know that Sherlock had Words with his brother Mycroft about the inadvisibility of Colonel Farridge encountering any further problems, as who knew what a consulting detective investigating said matter might 'accidentally' discover. And then 'accidentally' pass on to every single journalist in London.

I had expected to be taking my cousin round the London sights as he had arranged a week in the capital subsequent to the trial finishing, but he told me that he had planned his whole stay out, although he often came round to see me of a morning or afternoon. He had to be enjoying himself as he always looked tired out.

Finally it was time for him to leave. I was surprised that Holmes had paid for his ticket back to Edinburgh to be upgraded to a first-class sleeper, which was most generous of him.

“It was good to see Scott”, I said. “Although he should have taken things a bit more easily. Especially with ten children to go back to.”

“At least his sister is living with him now”, Holmes said with a smile.

“He did look tired, though”, I said. 

“That is what seven nights of non-stop sexual gratification does to one.”

I stared at my friend in shock.

“What?” I exclaimed. “But..... but.......”

I was apparently turning into a chicken.

“Seemingly the fame of my brother and his lover have spread as far north as Auld Reekie”, Holmes smiled. “Your cousin asked to be introduced to Sherry – _and Kean_ – as soon as the trial was over. They and their 'gentlemen' have been keeping him well entertained this past week.”

I was struck dumb.

“Besides”, he said airily, “single or married, gentlemen have needs. Mr. Ladd who works over Stepney way – Aladdin as he is in the catalogue – has some sixteen children with his wife, although I suppose he finds the extra income quite welcome. Imagine sixteen little Watsons milling about _your_ matrimonial abode.”

I gave him such a look!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
